


Kettering

by icebergmemories



Category: The OA (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Death, F/M, Hap's perspective, Hospital, it's just sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 09:05:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12385104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icebergmemories/pseuds/icebergmemories
Summary: "But something kept me standingBy that hospital bedI should have quit but insteadI took care of youYou made me sleep all unevenAnd I didn't believe themWhen they told me that thereWas no saving you"





	Kettering

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by The Antlers' "Kettering"

The monotone beeping seemed to echo through the hall, above all the other monitors and through my earplugs. It was slow and faint, almost as if she was already gone. 

I don’t know what drew me to her, but I felt my feet pulling me towards her. I had seen her only once in passing. Her pale hair was fanned out on the pillow like a golden halo. Blue eyes, still so vivid, stared out unseeing. I wanted to stop and take her in, but the group of nurses around me pushed me past her room. 

Now, there was no one in the wing but the few elderly patients waiting to die. She wasn’t old. Far younger than I was. 

Tubes went in and out of her arms with the ringing of the machines behind her. She still looked angelic. I picked up her chart, and it confirmed what I suspected. Marrow transplant.

I rubbed my eyes. She was dying. This young woman who was supposed to live a long and happy life was going through hell. “Prairie,” I whispered.

“Let me guess,” she said with a gravelly voice, not looking up. “’You’re strong, you can make it through this.’ I’ve heard it before.” 

It startled me, but I tried to keep my composure. “How long ago was the treatment?” Something within me stirred. A connection, perhaps.

“Four months. It’s on the chart.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Just a matter of time.”

She knew, just as well as I did. Her body was rejecting the graft, and she was dying a slow and painful death. 

My feet pulled me towards the bed and I sat in the chair next to her. “Where is your family, Ms. Johnson?”

One, two, three, four breathes later, she opened her eyes. “There’s no one.” The way she said it broke my heart. “Tell me, why aren’t you with your family, Doctor…”

“Percy. Dr. Percy.” I wrung my hands. “Same as you in a way.”

Her head rolled toward me, her intense blue eyes locking onto mine. She didn’t say anything, just looked at me.

My heart beat in my chest harder. I grabbed her hand and held it between both of mine.

“Could you…just talk about something? Anything.” She closed her eyes again.

So I talked. I told her about the trees around my house, how the birds sang, the way the wind whistled. My mouth got away from me as I told her of my years in school, the first flat line I heard in the ER and my beliefs on an afterlife. I don’t know how much time passed, but her cold hand slowly warmed in mine. 

Through the pleats in the windows, I could see the start of dawn breaking. Quiet chirps of finches outside danced through the room, voices sounding in a new day. Her eyes were closed, breathing steady. 

“Thank you.” 

A smile pulled at my mouth. “Yeah. Of course.”

Once she was asleep, I took my leave. Her monitor beeped away.

Sleep didn’t find me easily in the on-call room, making me toss and turn. Uneven, broken, I couldn’t rest more than an hour before I decided it was enough. As soon as I opened the door, half a dozen nurses ran by, nearly pushing me back into the room. 

“What’s happening?”

Clad in purple, only one of the nurses answered me. “Room 57. Code blue.”

My heart stopped. All sound left, except the sound of one long beep down the hall. 

I don’t remember running or walking, but I remember being at the door to her room, as the nurses stood next to her with pads on her chest. Clear. Thump. Nothing. Clear. Thump. Nothing. Time.

Eyes fell on me, looking for something I couldn’t tell. 

Hands stopped moving. 

“Time of death: 5:08am.” There was nothing that could’ve been done.


End file.
